SLIM ACRES SAYS

In the 1930s Harold Pickett began contributing bite-sized chunks of down-home wit, wisdom, and verse to the Union City (Indiana) Times-Gazette, under the guise of "Slim Acres," the name and character he would also eventually adopt for his "Buckeye Poet" persona. The little sayings, many of which were somewhat in the style of Slim's fellow Ohioan Kin Hubbard, were initially submitted as letters to the editor, but they were soon appearing under the title "Slim Acres Says" in a feature that ran for several decades. For this page, his grandson Scott Ryan has selected some personal favorites from Slim's books of newspaper clippings, with a little help from his mother (Slim's daughter Monnie Ryan). Although his contributions to the Times-Gazette also included ditties and Slimericks, we've omitted those from this page since we have separate pages for those.

Slim himself published a collection of selections from "Slim Acres Says" entitled Corn On The Cob, and also scattered some throughout his first book of poetry, Down Country Roads; especially in the latter, he edited their deliberately bumpkin-style phonetic misspellings into more intelligible (but still "countrified") English. Scott has followed suit here, in the belief that that's what Slim himself would have done if he were republishing them today; after all, it's what he did do with the ones he did republish.

Some of them are dated, naturally, and a few of those are included for interest. Most of them, though, are timeless. The list below is nearly chronological as far as we can tell from the books of clippings, but then again we're not altogether sure those clippings are arranged chronologically to begin with. (For more on Slim's history, see About Slim Acres.)

A note on the illustrations: "Slim Acre Says" was illustrated first by Ray S. Meredith (beginning in 1938 and ending with his death in 1941) and thereafter by William S. Imhoff (who, according to the Times-Gazette, was "a special policeman at the Union City Body Company"). Slim reused Imhoff's illustrations in his 1970 book Down Country Roads, so we're assuming he held the copyright or at least a license to use them. On that understanding, we've included them on this page.

We don't know much of anything about either Meredith or Imhoff, so if there's anybody out there who can tell us more, we'd love to hear from you. And if Imhoff or any of his relatives are reading this and have any objections to our posting the illustrations, please let us know.

I guess ever'body reaps what they sow, but it seems to me that some gits a durn sight better yield than others.

I reckon there's times when the Lord forgives a man for lyin', like when Lucy asked me what Hedy Lamarr got that she ain't.

Hitler says nobody is big enough to stop him. I'd like to be watchin' when he tries to goose-step past Saint Peter.

Maybe there is a sucker born every minute, but there's two sharks waitin' fer every one of 'em.

A feller was tellin' me that the G-men always git their man, even if it takes 'em a lifetime. I've met several G-women.

If young fellers would jist listen to me afore they git married, there wouldn't be so many divorces. In fact, there wouldn't be so many marriages.

Luke Potters says all lawyers is fibbers, but I know they ain't. One time a lawyer told me my house was on fire, and sure enough, it was.

I don't like to brag ner boast, but when I start singin' tenor everybody in church turns an' looks at me.

Lucy is purty much worried about when her brother Ezra is goin' to settle down. I'm worried about when he's goin' to settle up.

Europe must be a funny place. Their dictators is men.

I don't mind the Japanese beetles and the European corn borers, but I wish them Poles woulda kept their durn cats at home.

I don't never like to see one of them city fellers ridin' horseback. The horse always looks insulted.

It seems like most self-made men are always willin' to talk about their product.

Sometimes I git purt near mad enough to tell Lucy who's boss around here. The trouble is she already knows.

Maybe money won't buy everything, but what it won't buy it'll make a nice down payment on.

Lucy won't admit she's gittin' old, but she plumb fergot to make me take my bath this spring.

I aim to hear that Buzwell divorce trial. I'm interested in findin' out who's at fault when a feller knocks his wife down with one of her own biscuits.

I reckon family arguments oughtn't to be took serious, but it's sorta discouragin' to git hit with one of them "God Bless Our Home" signs.

When a woman asks me how old I think she is, I always guess plenty low. I'd rather be a liar than a cripple.

I've always said that hard work never hurts nobody, especially them that don't git close to it.

Yesterday a salesman come around on a bicycle an' tried to sell me a book on how to make a million dollars.

That city feller thought he was gittin' a genuine antique when I sold him that bedstead, but he wasn't. My great-great-grandpaw made it hisself.

Luke Potters said his ancestors come over on the Mayflower. I told him I was glad they did, because my ancestors were gittin' purty lonesome over here by themselves.

Ezra Horntoot's wife left him three weeks ago. She said she wasn't never comin' back, but Ezra is still worried.

Maybe love makes the world go round, but it sure makes a lot of pocketbooks go flat.

I been listenin' to a hillbilly singer on the radio this mornin'. He wants to go back to Texas, Tennessee, Kentucky, Alabama, and Montana.

Of course I wouldn't do no business on Sunday, but me an' Luke Potters done a lot of dickerin' and arguin' so we'd be all set to swap mules first thing Monday mornin'.